


Elven Eyes

by epkitty



Category: Lord of the Rings (2001 2002 2003)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Challenge Response, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-02
Updated: 2011-03-02
Packaged: 2017-10-16 01:44:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/167082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epkitty/pseuds/epkitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hope arrives at Helm’s Deep and Aragorn achieves three things: relief, release, and regret.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story was a submission to a Two Towers Movie-based Fic Contest at Library of Moria

The armor sat heavily on Isildur’s heir. It was well made, but not by elves and not for him, so it weighed him down at the shoulders, especially after coming so far and so long without any shell of metal.

But heavier still and far more threatening was the weight on his mind and heart. Legolas had spoken truth; so had Theoden King. Every man within the walls knew it. Was Aragorn right to gainsay them, was he upholding a valid hope? Or would his stubborn actions be the death of them all?

Perhaps their flight had not been in vain. Perhaps there was yet hope. And though he had pushed them all to believe it, he could not see such hope himself. His faith had set with the sun. But he could not show them that.

Now, few scant hours were left to them. And maybe these would be the last hours for them all. But then Legolas met him in the armory, all smiles and ready optimism. It seemed the faith Aragorn pretended to uphold had rubbed off on the old elven warrior, who stood ready in layered leather armor. Then Gimli had come, aware of his comic appearance in this world of Men, and never had he voiced any real complaint, any true protest. Here was the only dwarf in a hold of men about to die, and what did he do? Laugh at himself and the elf, and prepare—like the rest—for a last stand.

The men stood ready at the gates. The hope of all the folks cowering in the Caves was with those men on the walls. The king was steadfast on the tower parapet. The elf stood ready before him. The dwarf would not give in.

Who was Aragorn, son of Arathorn, to betray that small hope now? Even as night lay like a smothering lid over the Deep, and thunder rolled threateningly in the distance, perhaps covering the sounds of a marching mass of Uruks. Who was he to give in to this final despair?

He was only a man. But despair was not an option, even if all hope was lost.

=

And then, the clear tenor of a ringing horn cried out. Legolas’ eyes lit like a smoldering candle in the dark as a grin tipped his pale lips. Recognition alight in his own face, Aragorn mirrored his companion’s expression of eager hope.

They raced through the lower halls, lit by evenly spread torches flickering in the deep. Gimli ran behind them, shouting out his aggravation. They sprinted up the steps to the keep and out the doors to the labyrinthine bailey—the open area between the thick outer walls and tower-like keep—rounding the hidden walls and finally coming to a sudden halt amidst smiling men. For there, standing within the gates, stood an army whose light footsteps had not betrayed their arrival. Standing within the wooden gates of Helm’s Deep were a host of Galadrim, Lorien’s best archers, and at their head…

“We come to honor that allegiance.”

“Haldir! Mae govannen!”

Hope had arrived.

\------

Haldir spoke his words gravely, even as his clear glittering eyes searched the crowd for a familiar face. The mortal man had not been there to greet the contingent of elves and for a moment he feared the worst, but then that dashing figure had cut through the crowds of ready soldiers, his deep voice loud and joyful echoing through the Hornburg. Haldir could not hold back the smile at the sight of him, especially when the ranger could not hide the relief in his eyes.

The Men had been in a despairing puddle of fear when he’d arrived, but now Aragorn’s smile was broadest, his eyes brightest. Of course Haldir had known what their efforts would mean here—and the losses that lay yet ahead of them—but the look on that man’s face made the danger of battle worth the risk.

Those grey eyes remained fixed on the elf and Haldir almost feared to meet them. For he recalled the time all too recently when he’d first seen those eyes, windows to a depth of feeling, eyes that held a secret, eyes that held a promise. Then, he had turned away. But now, he did not want to.

Aragorn ran to their relief and after his initial greeting, did not hesitate to throw his arms around that proud elf, humbled even in his leadership of this crew of archers to serve an old alliance and bury the feelings of animosity, of contempt, and of fear, that had grown throughout the last age.

Shocked for a moment, Haldir froze, wide eyes disbelieving at the sudden strength, the heat, the scent that surrounded him. He’d never been so close, not in Lorien, not when this man had offered him something he feared to accept, when this man had expressed a desire he feared to believe.

\------

At the sight of him, Aragorn didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry, but laughter had won out, and he’d taken in his arms that resisting form, that elf of sobriety and mystery and strength. And he, too, remembered his first glimpse of this creature, and the journey through Lorien, and blushing cheeks in the night. How he had wanted to use this strong body to cool his untempered lust… and how Haldir the elf had comically stuttered and backed away and explained in halting whispers. ‘It wouldn’t be right… an elf in my position… weary from your journey… rest now…’

The man had smiled and advanced, but Haldir would have none of it and turned swiftly away, fleeing into the sanctuary of the Lorien night.

And now, Aragorn was surprised to find that flame renewed, a stirring within him that in truth he had not felt since the night on the bank of the Anduin with Boromir of Gondor, now fallen. But Aragorn was a warrior, and war was coming; there was no time for foolish desires, no time even for fleeting affairs in shadowed caves. But then he’d pulled back from the haltingly returned embrace and seen those elven eyes. Grey and blue and green they were, and filled with a sudden desire that matched his own.

Time. That was all he needed, he knew. To rid himself of this distraction. To prepare in one final release for the battle to come. But time was something they did not have.

Quickly, he hooked his arm through Haldir’s. “Walk with me to the wall. And through the bailey, to the keep. We must talk of battle.”

And so they had. Haldir and Theoden and Aragorn, rearranging the soldiers on the wall, on the gates, and throughout the Deep. Archers and pikesmen were high. Swordsmen were low. Wind whistled in the Deep. They were ready as ever they could be as Aragorn again took Haldir’s arm and broke away from the crowds toward the keep, looking over his shoulder.

On the farthest battlements, center and still and sure, he could see Legolas’ fair form shimmering in the night. Unhelmetted, with only that leather armor, bow at the ready. His flashing blue eyes turned and the understanding wood elf nodded. No sign of the enemy. There was time.


	2. Release

Haldir haltingly followed, allowed himself to be led by an ever tightening grip on his arm, through the doors to the keep. The guards asked no questions of the two captains, letting them pass, watching them hurry toward the armory. Haldir bowed his head, simply going where this man led, feeling the heat rise in his body as it only ever had for one person. This person. This Man. This King.

He waited until they turned onto a dark corridor, the guards far behind, no sign of life ahead. “Where do you take me, Aragorn, son of Arathorn?”

“I take you as I please,” the man rumbled in a rough voice, and Haldir let out a sultry huff of breath, surprised and delighted, that made the man chuckle.

A breathless question came in the elf’s deep purr, “Why do you laugh?”

“In Lorien, you blushed and fled. Now, you blush still, but you follow me willingly. I did not think I had to explain myself a second time, my Beauty.”

Haldir’s rare blush deepened, even as he glanced to the side, to the silver jewel hanging around a tanned neck. “Beauty? I can hardly compare to your Evenstar.”

“My Evenstar? She will leave me,” Aragorn grumbled, and Haldir heard in the voice how this man’s love had been betrayed. But Aragorn brightened before long, turning promptly into a dark room. “Even if she does not,” he spoke on, “I fear I may lose myself to distraction this very night if I do not find release with you, my beautiful friend.” With a torch from the hall, he swiftly lit the candles within.

Looking about the small room, Haldir turned up his nose in disapproval. “What is this place?”

Aragorn shrugged, glancing at the mishmash of armor, bedding, mops. “A closet.”

The elf glared and raised a fine eyebrow.

“No one will discover us here,” Aragorn told him simply as he set the torch in the ready holder on the wall.

Then, like he had in the shining dark of Lorien, Aragorn turned to him, those grey eyes looking only at him, holding their secrets, showing their promise, a promise of heat and passion, an oath of lust and fire. And he advanced.

And just as he had before, Haldir retreated, unable to break that gaze; he stepped back until he was flush with the closed door and could go no further.

Still, the man crept toward him, until chest-to-chest they stood, pupils dilated, breathing harsh and heavy, chests heaving and hands itching to reach out. “I would take you, Haldir, beauty,” he finally spoke aloud his desires.

Haldir shuddered and breathed in a careful breath, their mouths but scant inches apart. “Then take me.”

\------

Haldir expected a rush of passion, so was surprised when he only felt a hand take his own, a thumb caressing his wrist. The half-gloved hand moved up, trailing along armor and velvet to wrap around a strand of golden hair and give an affectionate tug. Haldir swallowed, unsure, as the hand slid round to cup the back of his head, fingers curving around his naked neck, stroking at heating skin.

The elf could barely breathe for the eroticism of that move, the connection between their unblinking eyes. The man’s eyes were full of an unquenched need. And Haldir knew: that need would be met with his own body. He swallowed nervously and his lashes fluttered shut, no longer able to meet that unflinching stare.

“Open your eyes Haldir,” Aragorn snarled.

Shocked, Haldir sucked in a breath and looked upon him once more. Lust and fury shone bright before him and he gasped as hard, soft, demanding lips crashed down onto his own.

\------

Perhaps he had indulged in the elves’ honey wine, so sweet was Haldir’s taste, but Aragorn thought not, thought it was only fitting for so severe a tongue to hide its innate sweetness. Aragorn growled into that moaning mouth, all the while unknowing that he was staking a claim on virgin territory…

He quickly struggled out of leather and cloth and mail before reaching again for the tall elf—though not quite so tall as himself—and never was Aragorn more grateful for the simplicity of Elven garments. With but a handful of careful tugs, Haldir’s armor and clothing fell away. He was guided out of his boots to stand naked in the candlelight, hard and tall and proud and silvery pale and beautifully flushed, even to the tips of pointed ears.

Aragorn, still in black boots and trousers, stepped back to gaze his fill. “Aye, beautiful,” he admired of Haldir’s proud modesty. He almost smiled as the elf’s wide eyes followed his final moves to undress himself until the king-to-be, too, stood nude in the fire’s light. Dark and rough and scarred was he, but Haldir was moved by this man’s power and grace, his own beauty, and remained still and silent before him.

Aragorn finally saw the uncertainty in those elf eyes. “This is no love-making, Haldir. I need only your body.”

Haldir breathed hard in the heavy air, engaging again the man’s lustful grey eyes as he battled his own inner demons. “I know.”

\------

Haldir’s gasp was swallowed when Aragorn shoved him back against the door and sealed their lips, teeth clashing, hot tongue thrusting. Battle-scarred hands, hot and roughened, pinned him to the rude wooden door before sliding across his strong chest to pinch at peaked nipples. Haldir shrieked into the man’s mouth at the unexpected flare of lightening-pleasure that shot through him straight to his groin, shocking the elf to his own hesitant exploration of the dark flesh flashing copper in the candlelight before him.

Aragorn’s skin was soft and oh-so-hot, wrapped tight around hard quivering muscle, and all-consuming was this king’s desire. Haldir felt overwhelmed, crushed like an inconsequential thing beneath him, and struggled to feel still any affection in the rough touch.

\------

There was none. But Aragorn smiled through his harsh kiss, if kiss you could call the claim he made on those enticing full lips, and he was charmed by the light hesitance of the elf’s moves, his seeming innocence. For Haldir was old as Elrond was old, and nearly as powerful. Yet this warrior’s bond almost appeared to frighten him.

Haldir’s shy acceptance only fueled Aragorn’s passion, and the man pulled the elf forward against him, viciously grinding their pelvises together; he was deaf to the whining cries emitted through reddened lips, reaching down to clutch the elf’s ass and bring him into tighter contact, pulling and kneading and demanding, unmindful of bruised and scratched flesh, heedless of the fearful worship in cloudy grey elf eyes.

\------

Haldir shuddered at his own need, and at the man’s uncareful strength. Overwhelmed was the march-warden-turned-captain as this king of men mindlessly ravished him; devastating was this pleasure that skirted the edge of ecstasy, and the pain that flirted with uncontrolled madness.

And in truth, this new arousal frightened him, as he lost control of the ever-restrained elven body. This never-before felt heat flooded him like a forest fire devouring a drought-plagued land, and he felt within him his blood singing an unknown tune. That new song burst from his lungs in the sounds of passion, in strained grunts and needy groans, and in words that he did not remember or could not identify. Soon, he too clawed with unrepressed fury at the body that wound with his and abandoned all control to his fellow warrior.

\------

Aragorn growled again when the elf finally released his passion, and it was as Aragorn had secretly known it would be: demanding and wild and dangerous. He viciously grabbed Haldir’s wrists and pinned them up and back against the door, hard. He thrust a knee between Haldir’s heated thighs and pressed even closer against the willing elf, immobilizing the strained body.

Haldir continued to moan and writhe against him as Aragorn finally tore himself away from the tempting mouth to bite nipping kisses along a smooth jaw, a curving neck, a strong shoulder, reveling in the thrilling heat against him. With an overpowering rush of arousal, he pulled Haldir forward with the squeezing hold on his wrists and dragged him across the stone floor to throw him down on pile of rough bedding. Aragorn, panting, loomed over the sensitized elf.

\------

Haldir’s body protested the sudden loss of skin-on-skin as he was hurled to the floor, staring up with lust-hazed eyes at his ravisher. Aragorn stood, powerful legs parted, fists at his side, breathing deep, hard cock jutting out and pointing right at the sprawling elf.

If possible, it seemed the man was holding himself back from something. And Haldir only wanted everything. He needed it, but he could not show it.

Could he play the game? To win what he so desired?

As Aragorn’s gaze turned questioning, Haldir quickly squeezed shut his eyes, and forced his emotions into the familiar cage he’d crafted within his mind, dark and deep and cold.

When he opened his elven eyes again, only the lust shone through.

Obeying some inner drive, Haldir slowly raised his hands, fingertips ghosting along his own sides, up a toned torso until he crossed his wrists high above his head in sinuous lethargy, in a tempting seduction. He never pulled his eyes away from Aragorn’s as he continued his own labored breath. He managed a small grin and raised eyebrow as he spoke. “Well?”

Wordlessly, Aragorn reached above him. Even maintaining his hard gaze, he unhooked the unlit lantern from the beam above him. He removed the string wick and poured the oil into his cupped hand. It ran slickly over his fingers to drip on Haldir’s legs as Aragorn threw the lantern aside with a clanging clatter and then moved his hands down in a tease of his own, tightly gripping that purpled arousal and rubbing the oil slowly onto himself in long, languid strokes.

Haldir’s eyes widened as he watched this overly controlled display, his lips parted wordlessly, pink tongue fluttering out to lick at dry lips, forcing himself to keep his hands where he’d placed them immobile above his silver head.

\------

Aragorn’s gaze burned. He intoned in a low rumble, “Turn over. On your knees.”

Haldir’s proud nature came to the fore as he glared back, purring, “Make me.”

The man pounced.

\------

Almost recoiling from the assault, Haldir again lost himself to over-riding passion as the man ran callused hands over his virgin body in a rough mockery of affection. A thrashing struggle rose between them, but Haldir had no intent to win. Aragorn moved over him like some wild beast, turning him round and ruthlessly biting into a muscular shoulder to still the writhing elf.

Feeling Aragorn hard and hot against his most private place, with a surprised intake of breath Haldir froze completely, as if a sudden wind had chilled a drop of water to ice. Aragorn took no consideration to this halt, however, as he reached down to thrust two unforgiving fingers into the motionless body.

A strangling cry escaped him as he jerked suddenly forward, unconsciously trying to flee from the agonizing invasion.

But Aragorn was brutal within him, against him, pulling Haldir back by the shoulders and prolonging his attack on the elf.

When Haldir began to ride his hand with minute thrusts against him, Aragorn removed his tormenting fingers, positioning himself at the pulsating entrance to Haldir’s body. Hot breath whispered against a pointed ear. “I want to hear your screams, Haldir.”

\------

Willing his own torment to an end, Aragorn shoved his slick cock into that tiny space, and sure enough, Haldir’s pained screams echoed in the small room, no doubt penetrating the wooden door to wind around dark stony halls and even perhaps out to the caves.

Aragorn shuddered, almost collapsing atop the shivering elf. All thought left him as overpowering sensation spiraled in: blazing heat, and throbbing tightness. Haldir’s strained breaths were delightful in his ears as he smoothed a hand along the rippling back to clasp the elf’s neck and force his broad shoulders down to the coarse woolen blankets. “Yes, just like that…” he groaned in a guttural command.

\------

Haldir had howled at the initial breach; the pain, the stinging ache was unbearable. He felt as if he’d been set afire and was being torn apart, but the man’s strength was all-powerful, and even if the elf truly struggled, he would not have been able to escape.

As it was, he cursed his humiliating posture through clenched teeth, his cheek shoved into the blankets beneath him by that unshakable grip on his neck, hot tears falling, streaming down those flushed-fair cheeks to wetly darken the fabric strewn on the cold stone floor. Haldir trembled uncontrollably, a dry groan bursting forth from parched lungs as Aragorn used his free hand to steady the trembling hips and force himself all the way in.

\------

Lost to ecstasy he was, heart pounding madly, skin flushed with intense heat, his whole form rising and falling shakily with unsteady breaths. Haldir was forge-hot around him, internal muscles gripping with quaking strength, the mewling-tortured sounds a symphony of pain and pleasure and want.

Aragorn stilled himself, still clutching madly at the strong body beneath him, filling that body and being constricted by it to the point of wavering ecstasy. “Ai, Haldir…”

\------

His name, Aragorn had called out *his* name, in pleasure, in need, in maybe something more than the release of lust and tension.

Haldir melted beneath him, feeling as though he might melt into the very floor were he not he held up by two brawny hands and that hot length of need within him.

Aragorn began a rocking motion, barely moving in shuddering soft pushes. And as this swaying cadence progressed, each thrust drove away a part of the stinging pain, bringing instead the pleasurable ache to a smolder within the elven body, virgin no longer.

“Yes, Aragorn…”

\------

The man’s eyes fluttered closed as he moved both his hands to those slim hips, guiding their bodies to move together in the ages-old rhythm. So slowly they began, an almost gentle tempo soothingly sweet.

Freed of the restricting grip on his neck, Haldir pushed himself, faltering, onto his hands, finding better leverage to move back with ever-greater control to form that intimate connection over and over again. “Ai!” he called out in tense desire, “I need, I need…”

Grinning lasciviously through his lust, Aragorn slowed his movements even more to prolong that intensifying ache in both of them, reveling as much in Haldir’s needful whines as he did in the needy body, still lusciously tight and hot and oil slicked around him.

Finally, that building spiral of craving within him broke the hold of his patience, and Aragorn grabbed tight to those hips, thrusting brutally into Haldir, pounding with merciless rage, releasing with this one act the stress, tension, love, and hate accumulated throughout this whole cursed journey.

\------

Haldir felt the dam of lust burst over both of them. With it came again the tearing pain, but also the throbbing pleasure, coursing through him in waves, each greater than the last, until he too was snarling with want and screaming out vague curses and demands, thrashing back onto Aragorn’s steel-hard cock and clawing futilely at the cloth beneath his archer’s fingers.

Again came the tears pouring forth from grey elven eyes in streams of pain and pleasure and love.

As Aragorn continued his ever-increasing ruthless hammering pace, a callused hand again wound its way up Haldir’s flexing back to grip a muscled shoulder. Without thinking, Haldir lifted a pale hand to tightly clasp that strong, hot, rough hand.

\------

One more touch, one more connection between them. Aragorn screamed as he battered harshly into Haldir’s clenching tightness as that spiraling pleasure doubled, tripled, wrapped him round like a coiling serpent.

\------

The relentless pounding was a cyclone of hard-hitting pleasure circling the elven body until a scream was torn from his lips as the ultimate ecstasy was released within him; hard and hot and fast it was ripped from him and ripped at him until Haldir could do no more than rock with it and hang his head in a moaning fall from grace.

\------

Tighter still squeezed internal muscles and Aragorn rammed into the spent body with his final shouts of rapturous elation. His heaving breaths echoed with Haldir’s quiet sobs as the two collapsed in a sweaty tangle of physical and emotional overload.


	3. Regret

A slap to his upper thigh roused Haldir from his spent stupor. “Time to rise, Beauty.”

Haldir slowly shifted, bringing shaky arms to push himself upward, staring with unseeing eyes to the twisted brown blankets, knotted and snarled and stained beneath him. Soft lashes fluttered shut and a deep breath recalled some measure of his eternal composure. “Aye, I come…”

A deep chuckle sounded somewhere above him. “Indeed you did. But we can stay here no more, unless you’d like to be discovered in such a state. Perhaps Legolas will come to fetch us…”

This picture brought the prideful elf to his senses more effectively than a bucket of cold water. He heaved himself to his feet with a sigh, averting his eyes to the floor as he single-mindedly concentrated on retrieving his clothes piled by the door and pulling them on with fastidious care and unaccustomed haste, not showing the sore ache that plagued him.

\------

Aragorn took great care with the bracers; last to go on, he strapped them firmly over his forearms, all the while keeping a close eye on the withdrawn elven captain soberly attiring himself in the velour padding and layered metal armor.

The mithril-inlay boots were last to go on and Aragorn’s frown deepened as Haldir stood silently, gazing emotionlessly at the stone floor with a face now paler than was the usual elven pall.

“Haldir?”

\------

He pushed it down. Deep.

Looking up, he managed his usual distant sneering smile. “Yes, we must go.”

Aragorn nodded after a moment’s hesitation. It seemed for a moment he wished to say something of importance, but in the end all he managed was, “They will arrive within the hour.”

\------

Aragorn again led them down the torch-lit corridor. Reaching the guards, he asked, “Any word from the battlements?”

One man nodded. “Elven archers have spotted a distant mass of torches. They march quickly, but no man’s eye can yet discern them.”

Isildur’s heir nodded. “We go. Come, Haldir.”

The elven captain remained a silent shadow behind him as they wound their way through the back halls of the bailey, rounding the walls and taking the stairs up to the tower parapet. Aragorn approached Theoden, but in the end, there was nothing to say. The two kings of men exchanged a look of false hope and a short nod before Aragorn and Haldir set off for the outer wall.

\------

They met Legolas at the center. The wood elf shared a knowing look with Aragorn before resuming his elven mask of indifference. “I was just about to fetch you. They come.”

Haldir turned to look out at the Hornburg and Deeping Coomb and further, over the Westfold Vale. The dark army came on like a low black cloud of mist out of the night. He could hear their echoing anger rolling toward the Deep with the coming thunder. By the nervous whispers floating about down in the bailey and over Helm’s Gate, he knew that the Men now saw them as well.

He saw all he cared to.

Turning to Aragorn, the man was already staring at him. But whatever words left to him lodged in his throat. He offered a hand, which Aragorn took in a firm warrior’s grip. Again, it appeared as though the man would speak, and he licked his lips in a nervous gesture before smiling grimly. “The grace of the Valar be with you, Haldir.”

The elf met his eyes bravely, hiding the disappointment. “And with you.”

\------

Their gaze lingered until a nearing shout of thunder broke Aragorn’s distraction. He nodded once more and turned to take his place. He did not watch Haldir do the same: walking along the battlement to take up his weapons and greet his lieutenant with a gruff jerk of the sylvan head.

Aragorn stood over the gate, looking out. The men and elves were silent in the Deep. They all watched. They all listened. They all remained unmoved when a shocking blast of thunder echoed through the Hornburg, announcing the fall of blessed rain. There would be no threat of fire.

The enemy came nearer, stretching out miles in the distance, stamping their feet and clanging their weapons. Aragorn paced the length of the wall, shouting his orders, his commands, not able to prevent grey eyes flicking to that silver head, bent to a notched bow, water dripping in unchanging rivulets as from a statue of stone.

\------

One slippery arrow flew through the dark, and Haldir heard it connect with a solid body, saw the orc fall in the Coomb. His heart fluttered wildly but his exterior remained steady.

When battle came, it was a rush and rage of flying arrows and one exhilarating moment bled into the next. He silently mourned his comrades that fell about him, and rejoiced each enemy fallen. The massive armies swirled about him and he lost his bow in the fervor of battle, reaching for the daggers demanded of the closing enemy.

Right and left and all around him they fell, blood singing in his veins while the silver hair flared in an angry mane about him.

He could hear Aragorn shouting throughout the heavy clamor. And now his words rang out clearly, “Take him down, Legolas!”

\------

The hope brought by elven comrades was lost in the terror of that flaring torch nearing the culvert. Aragorn shouted to his companion and Legolas acted quickly. But the torch-barer would not go down.

An explosion echoed through the Deep, deafening those nearest and Aragorn could not contain his rage, tearing through his enemies with animalistic fury as what was left of the wall shook beneath their feet.

\------

The terrible explosion rocked Haldir where he stood on the wall, but he maintained his footing, taking them out, swift and merciless.

Then sounded the call for retreat.

In one unending moment, he met Aragorn’s stare over the Deep and gave a curt nod between slayings to acknowledge the command. “To the keep!” he took up the call, crying out to the furthest archers. “To the keep!”

Haldir fought still, calling back the troupes, ensuring everyone heeded the call before fleeing himself.

But the enemy advanced like a swarming hive as the elves moved back. Surrounded, he cut through the shroud of enemies, losing his frustrations in their accelerating deaths.

*SSSSHHHRRRRIP*

The sharp sting to his side sent a shock through him. It wasn’t even painful, but it was a stark slash to his body that he could not comprehend, a riverfall of red blood gushing, something he could not ever remember knowing before.

His grey eyes flashed around him, but his vision blurred and he only caught a few blinking moments. There was Gimli being dragged away, and Legolas rushing back with arrows still flying. But most of all he saw the retreat. The elven archers were now beyond call of aid. Any ally was.

He turned with a sudden madness, again sheathing his white knives in black flesh.

*THWARK*

Then a wave of coldness stole over him, emanating from his back alongside the sound of metal splitting flesh. A freezing mantle gripped his elven body in icy arms, and the songs of the dead rang in his ears. Never before had he heard the call of Mandos, but it was mournful and sweeter than any remembrance, stealing away his life in those cold, soft claws of death.

Aragorn…

\------

He fell.

It was akin to the half-forgotten visions of deep sleep nightmares, wavering in an obscuring cloud of fear. Unreal.

But it was too real, he knew.

Charging with sudden strength and primal frenzy, he ran through the wall of orcs, cutting them down in a swathe of undefined rage.

He fell to his knees beside the swooning body, pulling the sylvan elf back into his arms.

Cold. Heavy. The only life remained in the dying eyes, focusing on him in one last vision. And Aragorn saw, truly beheld the light of love in those eyes, for him. Only ever for him.

He knew.

The stuttering words muttered in uncertainty, the charming blushes in the darkness, the hand clenching his in a moment of passion, the forlorn figure following him in silence. The unspoken words.

This elf had offered his body to his love, knowing that his devotion would never be rewarded.

This elf had given so much in return for nothing.

This elf had died, never having spoken a word of it.

The last light faded from elven eyes.

And there was nothing he could do.

=

The screams of the dying would stay with him for many nights, but the love that shone forth from those dying eyes would haunt him till the end of his days.

But the battle raged still.

And now, he would fight; now, he would take his revenge. Later, he would mourn.

Later… he would regret.

=

Jumping to his feet, the man issued a war-call thrilling and terrible; he leapt to the wall and carved out a new place in the battle, charging into the depths without any heed to his own survival, without any heed to his friends falling back far behind him, without any heed to his own love leaving for a distant land. Without any heed, he stormed into the war with harsh battle cries, his tears unseen in the pitch black of the storm.

The Enemy fell. Dead, wounded… he cared not. So long as they fell.

And everything around him faded into the blood haze of shadowy vengeance.

= = = = =

The End


End file.
